


Through a child's eyes

by bunnybinnie



Series: Late Night Thoughts [1]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Childhood Trauma, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Past Domestic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:42:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23228818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnybinnie/pseuds/bunnybinnie
Summary: Minho thought he was over it. It had all happened so long ago. It turned out he was just good at avoiding what was triggering, until it came out of nowhere.
Series: Late Night Thoughts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1889530
Kudos: 89





	Through a child's eyes

Minho thought he was over it. It had all happened so long ago. It turned out he was just good at avoiding what was triggering, until it came out of nowhere. He didn’t feel like he was easy to trigger, like he had built a shield to protect himself, and his memories, from the whole world. But this time, it took the smallest thing at a moment he wasn’t expecting it and he was gone.

Minho was lying in bed, scrolling through his SNS. There was nothing really interesting until his eyes stumbled upon a tweet. It wasn’t particularly violent nor explicit, but it was _unexpected._ And the memories started flooding back, blurring his vision. He tried fighting back, his thumb scrolling past it. But deep down, he knew he was doomed. His heart started pounding in his chest, reviving this oppressing feeling of anxiety.

He tried to stay grounded, one of his hand tightly grabbing his sheets. He was in his bed, in the dorm. The boys were either out practicing, working out or doing whatever in other rooms. It was 2020, he was _safe._ His mom was _safe_. He knew all that and tried repeating it in his head to fight back the voices and the memories.

And then he was gone. He was suddenly small, so small, way too small. He was in his childhood’s bedroom, his hands covering his ears. But he could still hear the screams. The anger. The pain. His dad’s voice was like of a growling monster, getting bigger and stronger. Scarier. He tightly shut his eyes and whispered to himself. Still, he could hear his mom’s screams of utter pain. He could hear her begging him to stop. He could hear her crying, wailing. He felt sick.

Minho took a deep breath as if he was drowning. His throat was too tight, and his lungs were burning. Why was it so hard to breathe? He needed to get out of this room. He tried to get up of his bed, but he spiralled again.

He could swear all he did was blinking, and yet he could see himself, _feel_ himself, to this day again. He could feel the wall against his back. He could see his dad pacing like a caged lion. His mom was crying, begging.

_Go to your fucking room._

_Don’t touch him, please, I beg you, don’t touch him._

But he was frozen. Minho couldn’t move. He was scared. No, actually, he was terrified. Then it felt like the scene went forward at an uncontrollable speed. What had happened? He wasn’t even sure. All he could see; all he could remember was the shouts. The violence. The hair pulling, the insults, the flying fists, the cries, the voices. A big thud. A deafening scream. And the blood, a lot of blood. More blood than little Minho had ever seen, filling the cracks between each tile on the floor. He couldn’t even hear himself wailing, his chest going up and down so fast it was hurting. He could hardly remember his own voice crying out for help, but no one was listening.

He felt himself being lifted off. Familiar voices were calling out his name. A hand was gently stroking his face, getting rid of his tears and the snot that was coming out of his nose.

“Minho? Minho what’s wrong?”

“Is he okay?”

“I’m getting Chan hyung”

Then, there were arms around him. A hand was softly playing with his hair and all the voices in his head were one by one getting replaced by the tiny whispers in his ear.

“You’re okay. You are safe. You are in the dorm. You are 23. Your mom is okay too, she’s at home. You need to breathe. No one will hurt you, nor her, ever again. We love you. Yeah, like that, you’re doing so great. Breathe with me. Can someone bring a glass of water?”

Slowly, Minho was coming back. He looked around himself and saw that he was sitting on the floor of his room with half the members around him. Chan was still hugging him loosely, careful not to make him feel trapped. Minho took the glass that was presented to him, his voice cracking when he thanked the maknae. The water was cold, calming the fire inside him.

Minho gave back the glass and curled himself up against his leader.

“I’ve got him, you should all leave the room, he needs space.”

He whispered a tiny “thank you”, burying his head in Chan’s chest.

“I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay.”

Minho thought he was over it. It had all happened so long ago. He had fallen again but it didn’t mean he had failed. It wasn’t easy, walking with these wounds. It was okay to trip sometimes, it happened. He wasn’t alone and he was safe, there would always be someone to help him get up.

And, who knows, maybe a day will come where he’ll be able to push himself up.


End file.
